


In the Shroud of the Night

by AHeartIsAHeart



Series: From the Darkness [2]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: 1910s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Armored Closet Gay, Blood, Blood Drinking, Hospitals, Humanity, I'm really just rating this mature just in case, Internalized Homophobia, Jonathan is Bi, Like to the point where he doesn't even know it, Lover's Quarrel, M/M, Making Out, Nemrod, Self-Denial, Side characters still exist when the mc isn’t talking to them you know, Skal, Vampire Bites, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, Vulkod, honestly guys just bang already, red eyes, the embrace, you cannot argue with me on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHeartIsAHeart/pseuds/AHeartIsAHeart
Summary: I can see you're scared of your emotionsI can see you're hoping not hopelessSo why can't you show me? Why can't you show me?I can see you're looking for distractionsI can see you're tired of the actingSo why can't you show me?Who are you in the dark?- Camila Cabello, "In the Dark"





	In the Shroud of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the next part! I hope you guys enjoy it, I think I spent too much time stressing out over this. Homework? Who is _she?_

Geoffrey grunted as the Skal’s claws sliced through his sleeve, leaving wide red lines stark against his pale skin. It jumped away before he could retaliate, snarling at him like some rabid beast.

Though, he supposed, that _was_ what it was now. There was no glimmer of intelligence left in those eyes. All that was left was an animal hunting for food. 

Could he have become that? Could he turn into that? Geoffrey wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Jonathan had been silent since his first night after being turned, so he had no source of answers. 

As the Skal roared again and charged, swinging its claws wildly about, Geoffrey shouted a challenge and met it halfway. Just before the collision, he grabbed one of the beast’s wrists and _pulled_ , using the beast’s momentum to force it down his blade. The creature screeched, its remaining arm clawing at Geoffrey’s face, his neck, his arms, weaker and weaker every second, until, at last, it was still.

Geoffrey let go of its wrist, allowing the body to fall limp onto the ground, then pulled his sword free of its chest. He stabbed the corpse a few more times for good measure, twice in the heart, and once in the head. His wounds throbbed with a dull ache, reminding him that he’d sustained a fair amount of damage himself. 

Blood oozed slowly out of the wounds, nowhere near as severe as they would be if he were still human. He licked at a particularly large gash in his arm, and his wounds, slowly began to heal. A quirk of his new life, he supposed. There was power in blood, something that he, as a vampire, could now exploit. It was fortunate that none of his men had protested his decision to go alone. If one of them had witnessed this, he would have had to flee Europe to be able to escape them.

Not without consequence. As the last of his wounds closed, he felt the pang of _hunger_ , and wondered when he’d need to feed again.

He knew it would be soon. It was becoming unbearable, the familiar dryness in his throat and weakness in his limbs. If he didn’t feed soon, he’d be too weak to go hunting again for the nights, and he was already having a difficult time as it was.

His abilities were waning with every night he went without blood. Not that he knew much about his abilities at all.

He’d had a hell of a time trying to figure _anything_ out, about his condition, the first few nights he’d been turned. After the first night, Jonathan hadn’t bothered to speak to him, and the silence was almost deafening.

Every night seemed to get more dangerous, with every route being filled with more Skals, more beasts emerging from the sewers, more madmen roaming the plague-stricken streets… It didn’t make sense, how many more appeared every night. The epidemic had something to do with it, Geoffrey was sure. 

_‘I am not so careless or heartless a sire that I would leave my progeny to suffer.’_

Even with Jonathan’s silence, there was the ever-present feeling that Geoffrey was not _alone_ in his mind, as if his sire had embedded himself in some part that he could not reach.

The memory of the voice as it guided him to a mortal ready to be drained made Geoffrey shiver. 

_Is this something he’s doing to me?_ He wondered. _Are these thoughts mine?_

No. Impossible. Such thoughts were not – natural. There was no other explanation, besides a foul trick on the part of his sire.

_‘But you are already damned. You have already tasted blood and wanted **more**. Is there anything natural about that?’ _ Some dark part of his being told him. 

Shaking his head, Geoffrey peered at the tears in his coat, mostly along the sleeves. A few shillings would buy him the thread he’d need to fix this one. A small shop near his flat would have what he needed. It wasn’t open at this time of night, however. 

Still, there were a few hours left before the sun would rise. He sheathed his sword and lifted the body onto his shoulder, barely noticing its weight. The journey to the river was a quiet one; hardly anyone was awake this time of night, much less walking out and about. Geoffrey rarely met anything that wasn’t a Skal or some other beast wandering the night.

Few dared to roam the streets, unless they were like him.

Which was why, halfway to the river, he’d been surprised to hear a quickened, _living_ heartbeat, moments before the smell of still-flowing blood came to him.

He felt his body react, the hunger making itself known, as he saw a man emerge from an alleyway, looking at his surroundings before continuing across the street. 

His eyes would not have been able to see Geoffrey, as dark as the night was. Curious, he followed the man, staying just beyond sight, in the shadows, as the man knocked on the door of a flat further down the road. The man bit nervously at his thumb as he waited, knocking again when no answer came. And again, louder this time. 

Geoffrey had decided to move on when the door opened, and the man made a sound of worry. 

“Oswald.” He said, his voice quivering. “I thought – where have you _been_?”

“I – look, I just –“ The other man, Oswald, sighed, “Newton. I – I didn’t mean to worry you, alright? I’m fine.”

“You should have told me you were alright!” Newton shouted, then seemed to startle, surprised by the volume of his own voice. His friend, Oswald, seemed just as shocked. 

“I’m sorry.” Oswald murmured, low enough that Geoffrey wouldn’t have heard it were it not for his enhanced senses. “I didn’t want to scare you, alright? I’m fine. Got trapped in the sewers for a bit by a few loons, but some doctor from Pembroke drove them off.” 

A doctor from Pembroke, saving someone from a sewer?

There was only one doctor there who’d do anything like that.

_Reid._

Geoffrey growled, moving towards the river so he could dump the body and see if he could find the good doctor in the hospital. The path was further down the road, past the two men talking to each other, but it was dark enough that they wouldn’t be able to see him, anyway.

“Oswald…”Newton sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. But… I really do think that someone in Pembroke could help you.” 

“I don’t want them to trap me in a room there! I can’t – I can’t handle that. Just – Doctor Reid told me he’d find some way to help me alright? Maybe the bloke’ll do it himself, maybe he’ll get someone from that place to do it, but look, Newton, I’m _trying,_ alright?” Oswald pleaded. 

Geoffrey looked in their direction, and they were _closer_ now. Newton sighed, the sound watery, like he was about to cry, and he reached up to hold Oswald’s face in his hands. 

“That’s all I ask, Oswald.” He said, and kissed him deeply. Oswald returned the kiss, the sounds of soft sighs passing between them as they continued.

Geoffrey was frozen on the spot, seeing the two men so brazenly exhibiting their… relationship. It was the dead of night, and no one was likely to see them, but even then, it was a risk. Geoffrey found himself harbouring a grudging respect for the two men, mixed with disgust and something he couldn’t identify.

A hand suddenly gripped his arm. “It is rude to stare, Geoffrey.”

Geoffrey whirled around, almost dropping the Skal’s corpse in his haste, to see Jonathan standing there, an eyebrow raised. He was just as Geoffrey had last seen him, dark coat over a simple vest, pale skin, and red eyes surrounded by a sea of black. He was still beautiful, damn him, and he wanted to grab the man and demand answers. 

_Answers, is that all?_ The thought came, unbidden.

He ripped his hand out of Jonathan’s grasp, fixing him with a murderous glare.

A small frown lingered on his lips, and he gestured behind him. “Walk with me.” He said. 

He turned and strode away, movements too fluid to be anything close to human. Geoffrey followed, not knowing what, or why Jonathan wanted him. 

“Who were – who were those?” Geoffrey asked, off-balance, for some reason.

“Mr. Thatcher and who I assume is his lover, Newton Blight.” The answer came. “What are you doing here?”

Geoffrey gestured toward the body slung on top of his shoulder, and Jonathan nodded. 

“The closest place you could dispose of that is in the river near Pembroke.” Jonathan said, continuing his stride. “I was on my way there myself.” 

A tense silence settled between them, filled with every question Geoffrey knew he wanted to ask and more, but couldn’t ask. Out of pride, shame, or both.

“You have been continuing your work.” Jonathan said, breaking the silence. 

“Did you expect me to stop simply because you made me like you?” Geoffrey said. “What I am does not change what I want.”

“I see.” Jonathan said. “How have you been adapting to immortality?”

“What, does whatever hold you have on me not allow you to know already?” Geoffrey asked. “Can’t you just root around my mind and find out?”

The other vampire looked by the accusation. “Your mind is your own. I would never dream of invading your privacy in such a way.” A short moment of silence. “The only power I have over you is being able to speak to you using the bond. Nothing else.”

Geoffrey scoffed derisively, and Jonathan let out a heavy sigh.

A few minutes passed with them walking in silence toward the hospital, the only clear source of light in the distance. 

Geoffrey broke first. “I feel so powerful, it gives me shivers.” It was true; the first time he’d felt just a part of this power was when he’d drunk the drop of King Arthur’s blood. Being a vampire… it was both easy and difficult to forget that he was capable of so much more. 

It was a wonder Jonathan had had such a difficult time defeating him, if this was what being a vampire felt like. 

He gave Jonathan a sideways glance. “I could be the greatest vampire hunter ever. Your greatest nightmare, in truth.”

“Will you hunt me down?” Jonathan asks, no fear, no hesitation – just a simple question, like asking about the weather.

There was something to be said about that kind of confidence. 

“Should I?” Geoffrey demanded. “I see your eyes; how many lives have you already taken to sate your thirst? How many innocents have you killed?”

Jonathan frowned, looking down at his shoes. “Too many, I suppose.” He let out a breath. “You know what the hunger feels like, now. How could I have resisted that pull?”

“And so you’ve turned to murdering innocents. Doctor indeed, you’re just-“

“Where,” Jonathan said, his voice sharp. “Do you think your missing men have gone?”

Geoffrey paused, horror dawning on his face as he realized what exactly he’d sent his men to do. 

“You killed them.” There was no question of how; that much was obvious. 

Jonathan, at least, had the grace to look guilty. “It was _they_ who attacked me, not the other way around. I fed on them not because I sought them out, but because they would not stop pursuing me.” 

He glanced at Geoffrey’s stony expression, _worry_ present in his eyes, of all things. “You need not believe me, Geoffrey. My work at Pembroke ensures that I am surrounded by easy prey, and yet your spies have yet to deliver any news beyond that of a poor, delusional woman who believes that she is a vampire. If I were the savage beast you believe I am, would I not have already devoured all that had come to the hospital? Would I not have devoured Mr. Thatcher when I saved him from the sewers?”

“I – You still –“ Geoffrey stumbled over his words, unsure of what he wanted to say. 

Jonathan was angry now. “I do not deny that I am a monster, but regardless of what you and your guard believe, I have made every effort I can to restrain myself. When you and your men came to attack me, I made use of them so that I would not harm those that have entrusted their care to me.”

He stopped, his jaw flexing, his shoulders tense. 

“I am a doctor, as well as a vampire.” Jonathan said. “And you are both vampire and vampire hunter. What we are opposes what we do. All we can do is make the best of what we’ve been dealt.”

Geoffrey stayed silent, his mind ablaze. Jonathan had killed his men; he had drained them of their blood, subjected them to the fate they had committed themselves to saving people from suffering. 

And yet, as he claimed, they had been the ones to attack first; could he fault the man for defending himself? 

Was it his fault, for sending his men out with the orders to kill any leech they could find?

_“I was only reborn for a few minutes before you and your men hunted me like a beast!”_

He’d killed an innocent woman that night. But… if he had only awoken minutes before, then he would have felt the all-consuming hunger that Geoffrey did when he’d been turned. 

He wondered, if Jonathan had not guided him through his first night, if he would have done the same. Would he have torn through his own men, if they’d found him? Would he have found some unfortunate bystander, guilty of no crime except being out too late, and drain them dry?

“Forgive me,” He damn near choked on the words, but he felt they needed to be said. “I… can understand why you killed them. Even if I cannot truly forgive you for it.”

The silence that followed was almost unbearable.

“Have you fed, since that night?” Jonathan asked, softly. 

For a moment, he was confused; what night was Jonathan referring to? 

“You mean since I awoke?” At Jonathan’s nod, Geoffrey hesitated. “…No.”

More of him wanted it each night, and the craving worsened with every Skal and Sewer Beast he fought that injured him. But he’d stopped himself, torn between preserving whatever innocence he had left and giving in for what he needed. 

“Best that you do, and soon.” Jonathan eyed Geoffrey’s torn clothing, taking in the tears in the fabric that he could see skin through. “I’d imagine you would need to feed more than I do, given your… occupation.” Geoffrey ignored Jonathan’s tone as they neared the river. 

They arrived at the river, and Geoffrey wasted no time throwing the corpse into the water. No one would find it until the morning, and by then he’d be long gone.

The morning… 

Geoffrey cursed when he realized that he’d wandered too far; there was no way that he would be able to return to his flat before the sun began to shine. 

“Where will you stay, then? Dawn is about to arrive.” Jonathan asked. 

“I… don’t know.” Geoffrey admitted. 

“Come with me to Pembroke, then.” Jonathan offered. At Geoffrey’s look, he said “The sun will rise soon, and I doubt you live nearby. Your clothes will need to be repaired, and I can request that someone bring them to a seamstress in the morning.” Jonathan said. 

Geoffrey nodded. Where else was he to go? He’d send word to his men tomorrow evening of where he’d been, then begin pulling back the Great Hunt from there. 

It was too dangerous to have them hunting now, with creatures like Jonathan and the more feral Skals lurking about. As successful as they’d been in the past, something was going on beyond a simple vampire infestation. 

They arrived at the hospital, and several busy nurses and doctors gave hasty greetings and quick glances at Geoffrey before they moved on. 

Jonathan stopped to talk to a nurse, her apron stained with blood and dirt from her rounds at the hospital. Geoffrey stayed back, unsure. This place was… chaotic. He’d visited Swansea to threaten him enough times to know what Pembroke was like, but where then he’d never had reason to pay attention to any of the goings-on in the area, now his senses forced him to. Blood, everywhere. Patients in dirty gowns forced to sleep in small beds in the corridors, the other rooms too full to fit all of them in without worsening the spread of the disease. Coughing, sneezing, crying, screaming, pain and despair everywhere, with doctors and nurses frantically rushing around, giving aid to as many as they could. Easy prey, lying down or sitting on their beds or walking around in a daze. But Jonathan looked comfortable in the chaos. Even with the smell of so much _blood_ filling the air, so thick it was almost cloying, he seemed completely in control. 

Geoffrey didn’t know if he could say the same about himself. It was too much, every sense was tingling and he could almost _feel_ his fangs sharpening.

It would be easy to grab a patient, sneak off, then drain them dry, and no one would be the wiser…

**‘Control yourself, Geoffrey.’** Jonathan said firmly. **‘I will not have you kill one of my patients.’**

Jonathan’s voice dragged him back to himself, keeping him in check as if he’d clapped him in irons. 

He was startled out of his thoughts by a woman clearing her throat in front of him. She was pale, her, short, unkempt hair framing a gaunt face. Thin, too, as if she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. 

“And who are you, mortal?” She asked, her voice strong despite her frail frame. “I saw you come in with the surgeon, Doctor Reid. Are you yet another new face to be seen in these halls?” 

Before he could reply, she continued. “No, I don’t believe you are. You do not have the look of the mortals wandering about, here. You and Doctor Reid are different. So, I command you, tell me: What are you doing in this place?”

_Mortal_ , she’d called him. He tried to focus his senses, to her, and… she was alive. Her heart beat with a healthy strength and rhythm, not even any sign of sickness. 

“I’m, ah, just a guest of his. Doctor Reid, I mean.” She didn’t seem impressed with his answer. 

“I thought as much. But you are the first person that he has brought here that I have never seen in this hospital. I must know why you are here, for I cannot afford my disguise being exposed. You may be one of those who have been hunting me, spying on me!” She grinned, a light coming on in her eyes. “If you think that you could catch me, Thelma Howcroft, then you are sorely mistaken, stranger. You are but a mortal, and I am a vampire. You do not have the strength to oppose me!”

Geoffrey was at a loss for words. What affliction did this woman have, that she thought she was a vampire? Her heart did not quicken as he’d found most others did when they lied, so she was either a very gifted liar, or she truly believed what she was saying. 

“Ah, Lady Howcroft. I see you’ve met my friend, Geoffrey.” Jonathan seemed to materialize from thin air, giving Thelma a nod. “How go your nightly activities?” He said, with a large, genuine smile. The sight made Geoffrey freeze, and Thelma seemed to zero in on his reaction, even as Jonathan continued talking.

“Ah, I see. I believe I understand now. Mortals and their physical needs are not uncommon sights, here.” She said, looking over both of them. “I must confess, even I did not think you would prefer this sort of company, Doctor Reid.” Reid blinked, unsure of what she meant. Geoffrey was frozen on the spot.

_Physical needs?_

That was… that –

“You can never be too careful, you understand.” She said to Geoffrey. “There are many who would have me destroyed for what I am. I cannot afford that my illusion be shattered.”

At his shallow nod, she shrugged, seeming to lose all interest in them. “You may go, then.” She said, then turned to walk off into another room.

“I just asked Nurse Hawkins to have someone bring one of the spare beds up to my office.” Jonathan explained. “I’m afraid I’ve used up the last of her patience for the day. Follow me.” He said. 

“I did not consider that you might experience difficulty here, due to your senses.” Jonathan apologized, as they walked. “I’m sorry, for subjecting you to that. I trust you are… all right?” He asked. 

“Yes.” But it had been close. Were Jonathan not so attentive, the woman, Thelma Howcroft, might have ended up drained of blood in some dark corner of the hospital. 

_‘Mortals and their physical needs are not uncommon sights, here.’_

“What was she talking about? …Miss Howcroft, I mean.” Geoffrey asked. 

“Ms. Howcroft has a condition called Cotard Syndrome. She truly believes that she is dead, and that has led her to also develop the belief that she is a vampire.” A fond smile appeared on Jonathan’s face. “She even drinks blood from one of the other patients. Just a few drops, every now and then. She is harmless, I assure you. She is simply delusional.” He chuckled. “Though anyone who attempts to insult her may walk away in tears. She is…” His smile suddenly turned sad, wistful. “A very determined woman.”

But that was not what Geoffrey was asking.

Jonathan’s office was quite impressive, compared to what he’d seen in the rest of the hospital. The room was quite spacious, a workbench situated against the wall across from the bed, a small desk just on the other side of the corner. A small kitchen took up the space in the main area of the office. Various bits of clutter were scattered on top of the desk, the workbench, the table… Jonathan was a busy man, and it showed. 

“Ah – forgive me, for the mess.” Jonathan said, rushing to organize the various materials on his desk. “You can use the bed over there,” He pointed to the bed placed against the wall on the other side of the room. 

Geoffrey just stood there, taking everything in. 

Here was Jonathan Reid, the leech who he’d tried to kill, who turned him, and constantly made him feel… something. 

This was his space. This was his home. 

It was very… human.

“Was she-“ Geoffrey stopped. Why was he even asking? It didn’t matter. Whatever kind of… company, Jonathan preferred, it was none of his business. 

But he _had_ to know, and he didn’t know _why_.

“Yes?” Jonathan said, red eyes bright under the light. It didn’t make sense. He was a monster by his own admission. A beast, as marked by his eyes. No matter how _affable_ Jonathan Reid was, he was still a vampire, a beast with a neverending thirst for blood. 

Why did Geoffrey want _him_? 

“Do you… prefer…?” He couldn’t seem to get the words out. \

Jonathan seemed to understand. “I… have enjoyed the company of both men and women, if that is what you are wondering.” 

Geoffrey wanted to laugh. Or scream. Both, if possible. 

“Both?” He managed. 

Jonathan didn’t seem fazed by the question. “Yes.” He said simply, walking over toward a small dresser and pulling out a shirt. He handed it to Geoffrey, who took it without a word. “You can change behind that partition, if you want.”

It was maddening, and he didn’t know if it was simply a reaction he had to his sire, nor did he care. Something in him responded to Jonathan, and it made him _want._ As much as he wanted to deny it, it was there, and it was driving him mad. 

It was wrong. He knew that. But it felt _right,_ as if every part of his body was coming alive. 

He hated it. 

He _relished_ it.

_Unnatural, Sinful, Abomination, Disgusting_

It was what he’d been taught. For a man to desire another man was a sin. 

And yet, here he was, struggling with his attraction to a creature whose kind he had trained all his life to destroy. 

A man with red eyes, and slits for pupils. Who had forced upon him the same curse he suffered. Who had killed innocent men and women to sate his apetite.

A man who smiled at delusional women, who worked to save lives even when he would benefit more from ending them, who offered a man who, not long ago, would have killed him in his sleep without hesitation.

_**I don’t care.** _

“Is it something that disturbs you?” Jonathan asked, when Geoffrey didn’t move. “I will not make any undue advances, if-“ He made a muffled noise of surprise as Geoffrey crushed his mouth to his.

His lips were soft, like they had been when Jonathan had turned him. He made a hungry sound and pressed closer, needing _more_ contact, _more_ feeling, more of _everything_. Jonathan returned the kiss, just as rough, just as aggressive. A hand gripped the back of his head, holding him in place, as Geoffrey slipped his tongue into Jonathan’s mouth, a mirror of the first time they’d kissed like this. Sharp teeth nicked at his tongue, and he growled and bit down on Jonathan’s bottom lip in return. The other vampire’s answering rumble resounded through him, and he felt the rest of his body responding, in kind. 

It was the most _alive_ he had felt in a long time, even before Jonathan had turned him. 

But it ended too quickly, Jonathan pulling away first with a regretful sigh. 

“Geoffrey.” He started. “That- I enjoyed that. But…” He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “I knew that you were… attracted to me. Even before I embraced you. But I also know that you do not believe that you are supposed to.”

Geoffrey stared at him dumbly, not sure what to say. 

“I cannot, in good conscience, allow things to go any further than that.” Jonathan finished. 

“So – what, is that it? What, should I just forget that it happened?” His stomach churned with shame and disappointment, hating the feeling of being rejected but also hating the fact that he even _felt_ anything in the first place. 

“No, that’s –“ Jonathan gave an exasperated sigh. “I chose my words poorly. What I meant was that I would prefer to know that you actually _want_ to pursue something with me, instead of simply fucking and leaving you to regret what happened.” 

Geoffrey snorted, moving to the bed prepared for him. “Do I want to _pursue_ something with you?”

_Yes. Yes, I do. So much, it scares me._

_But how can I want another man?_

“I don’t want _anything_ with you, leech.” He sneered, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest, the euphoria of the kiss fading away and leaving him cold and dead. 

Jonathan didn’t look pleased. “Why bother lying when I’ve already told you that I _know_?” He sighed. “It would be best if we saved this for another night.” He said, something almost like a command lurking in his tone. “Perhaps you will be more open to a proper discussion, then.” 

With that, he turned and walked toward his workbench, putting his focus to creating something for the next night. 

Geoffrey changed, his mind racing, and he lay down on the bed, waiting for the coming of dawn to pull him into sleep. 

He’d wanted the kiss. He’d been the one to initiate it. 

As much as he didn’t want to want Jonathan, he did. 

Tomorrow evening. Jonathan had said that they would talk about it another evening. 

As he fell asleep, he caught Jonathan staring at him, his expression unreadable. 

His sleep was filled with dreams of shadows, teeth, red eyes and a warm hand pulling him into the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a question: Why can’t you embrace the humans who attack you? Just because they aren’t named NPCs doesn’t mean they can’t give our favourite vampire the blood he needs. 
> 
> I'd imagine that Geoffrey had a very religious upbringing, not least because of his being raised and trained to be able to fight and kill vampires. 
> 
> Though it does make me wonder, the Skals and Sewer Beats (Vulkods), they're quite powerful. I mean, the Skals in particular are most likely quite a bit weaker than Ekons like our favourite doctor, but against humans? Well, humans in general don't have much of a chance. Which is probably why the Priwen patrols come in groups, since just one of them can't face a vampire alone, regardless of how feral and unintelligent it is.
> 
> Also Jonathan is a nice person at heart. But being a vampire, you know, you have to _eat_ people. So here, he's killed a lot of people. He embraced Dorothy Crane, Aloysius, and several other people. He is _nice_ but he is not _good_ , but he is not _evil_ like the Guard of Priwen insist he is. He is what he is. 
> 
> Will I have Geoffrey go through a similar sort of development? Maybe. Honestly, I'm kind of making this up as I go. 
> 
> Also, I'm fine with people translating my work into other languages, so long as they give proper acknowledgement to me as the writer.
> 
> I would appreciate it greatly if you left a comment! Suggestions are also welcome. Have a nice night ;)


End file.
